A War on Three Fronts
by barrow-wight727
Summary: After the strike, three main boroughs find themselves at odds with one another. (based on The Godfather, but written so you don't have to have seenread it)
1. Prologue

A/N: What better way to start off a new story than with an author's note, right? =P  
  
Okie, I shall make this quick. I promise! Just a quick reminder- I'm taking my creative liberties here. I'm not sticking entirely to The Godfather plotline. I'm going to take things out, add things, and change things around. I was going to keep it just with our guys, but I really wanted to keep the story with Sonny and Carlo the same. Speaking of Carlo, I'm going to apologize ahead of time- Skittery fans familiar with this movie, Skittery is Carlo. *sheepish smile* I also thought about having a Kate, but settled for using Sarah as kind of a Kate. I won't go on about the story any more though; I'll just let you read it! Prologue's a bit cheesy, but I suppose it serves its purpose. Don't let it turn you off completely.  
  
Disclaimer (I have to! Sorry!): The newsies aren't mine. In no way am I affiliated with Newsies. However, I do own Wick, Reflex, Pier, Lead, and Spin. As far as I know, the names have not been used; but I could be wrong.  
  
Prologue  
  
After winning the strike, the New York newsboys grew much closer. They had proved to themselves and everyone else that working together to achieve a common goal is possible. They'd seen contiguously that it was possible to knock over an authority figure that seemed unconquerable. Their skills in collaboration had led them to one of the most monumental achievements a majority of them would see in their lifetimes. They had all anticipated an effect of closeness, whether they acknowledged it or not. They were beginning to see that.  
  
Not long after the celebration of their victory, the unexpected reverse effect had begun to work itself between the boroughs. Lost in the complacency of their accomplishments, the different sides were developing that self-sufficient attitude that would drive them apart completely. Camaraderie between boroughs would no longer be seen as a good thing. It wasn't long before they would turn on each other and become rather hostile.  
  
Our story brings us to October the 23rd, a mere few months after the strike took place. Manhattan, Queens, and Brooklyn are all at odds. Their heated opposition leaves a war teetering on the brink of a very unstable cliff. 


	2. I

Chapter I  
  
"Anythin' happen taday?" Jack sat down in a chair in the lobby across from Race and Specs. Specs shot a sideways glance at Race and spoke.  
  
"Well, Jake got in a fight wit one 'a Wick's guys taday," Specs answered. "We gotta keep an eye out fer Queens now too."  
  
"Shit," Jack said with a sigh, rubbing his temples. "Is Jake awlright?"  
  
"He's fine," Specs answered.  
  
"Dis is really getting' dangerous."  
  
"Yeah, but 'e got da bettah 'a da guy," Race said almost proudly. "No doubt dey'll be back soon, dough. We'll get 'em back. Dey'll be afraid ta come ta Manhattan aftah dat."  
  
Jack leaned forwards and raised a hand. "Now wait jist a minute. I don' want ya ta get outta hand heah." Race sat back against his chair to control himself. "We can't jist go 'round and 'get 'em back,' Race. We gotta think heah."  
  
"I doubt dey'll wanna fight us. I'se shoah dey'se as sick 'a dis as we are," Specs offered level-headedly. "Maybe we should do somethin' ta make peace instead 'a fightin' 'em."  
  
"Nah, we gotta get 'em back. Eye fer an eye, kid," Race's eyes began to flicker with anger at the situation, and his tone of voice reflected it.  
  
"Race, dis is bad enough as it is. If we strike back, dey will too. We awlready had Brooklyn against us, and now Queens too. Let's not make it woise," Jack tried to calm him down more. He was like Manhattan's voice of reason. He'd managed to mature to the point of not wanting to retaliate. Race simply snorted a bit and rolled his eyes.  
  
At that, the three of them heard the door open. "Hello?" came a warm female voice.  
  
"Rebecca!" Race said and jumped up. A thin, short, brown haired girl with green eyes turned the corner. The apron on her waitress uniform was smeared with wet handprints. Skittery followed her into the lodging house. Race barely acknowledged him, giving a slight nod of the head. Skittery returned the gesture coldly. Race gave Rebecca a friendly hug and smiled at her.  
  
"Skittery was jist walkin' me home aftah woik," she explained with a smile, taking his hand. "I jist stopped ta say hello. I'd love ta stay. It's getting' late dough, and I gotta get back tad a goils' bunkhouse. I'll see ya soon, dough!"  
  
"Awlright, be careful," Race said, then turned his attention to Skittery. "You be careful too. Don' let 'er get hoit."  
  
Skittery gave a bitter nod and started to lead Rebecca off. She waved at them with a smile. Race stood in the doorway and watched them disappear down the street.  
  
"Dat couple unsettles me," Specs said to Jack quietly. "Race is 'er best friend. She's known 'im fer a real lawng time. He hates Skittery, dough. He awlways has. It kinda makes me noivous. Y'know how Race can be."  
  
"Yeah, I do know how Race can be," Jack said. "But Skittery ain't exactly da sweetest guy eiddah. She should be fine." He sat up again. "So whaddaya think?"  
  
"About what?"  
  
"About da matin' habits of salmon," he said sarcastically. "Da whole situation we got heah. Y'know, wit the tree heads."  
  
"Oh, dat?" Specs sat up straighter and cleared his throat. "I think we need ta do moah ta make peace, not fight."  
  
"Specs, we been tryin'."  
  
"Well, we gotta do moah den." 


	3. II

Chapter II  
  
"I got my eye on Queens right now," Race said with a proud nod. "Everyone's lookin' out fer dem."  
  
"Well, wait a minute," Specs chimed in. "How 'bout Brooklyn? If we just watch fer Queen, Brooklyn can have a chance to slip in."  
  
"Aw, c'mon, Specs. We won a fight against dem! 'A coase dey's comin' fer us!" Race said loudly. He sighed and relaxed a bit. "I know we gotta watch out fer Brooklyn, but we gotta focus on Queens."  
  
"We watch all borders at all times," Dave piped in from the corner. He rose and moved over towards the group. "Nobody will come in to cause any harm. Anyway, it's better safe than sorry."  
  
The three others looked at Dave in surprise. Until now, he hadn't gotten into this mess. "Didn't think ya'd want in on dis," Jack said. "Kinda hoped ya wouldn't eiddah."  
  
"I don't want in on it. I'll just do what I can that keeps me away from the action."  
  
"But Jack, what would we do if say Spot and Wick were in dis tageddah somehow?" Specs asked. Everyone paused for a moment, thinking about his question.  
  
"I doubt dey would be. Wick's against Spot too," Race said.  
  
"No, no, wait," Dave said, chiming in again. "He has a point there. Maybe we should send someone to Spot. You know, someone who can talk. Someone who they know can hurt them. He'll talk to him and find out what's going on. There's a chance."  
  
"Hmmm. . ." Jack thought for a moment. "I like dat idea, but who would be send?"  
  
The room was quiet for a moment until Specs broke in. "Itey'd prolly go"  
  
"He would, but he'd screw somethin' up. He awlways does," Race said. He furrowed his eyebrows momentarily in thought. "What 'bout Jake? He's a good tawkah. He's tough too. Dey know 'e beat up dat Queens guy."  
  
"That was Queens though," Dave reminded them.  
  
"But y'know how news travels. Dey'll know," Race argued. He looked at Jack and waited for a response.  
  
"Well," Jack began, stroking his eyebrow. He heaved a heavy sigh. "Dis is dangerous; but if Jake'll do it, he can."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"So tell me, Spot. How're things wit Wick and you?" Jake asked casually as he sipped a drink.  
  
"Wick? I hate da bastard," Spot answered bitterly.  
  
"Do ya?" Jake chuckled a bit. "So do we."  
  
"Jake, what'd ya come heah foah?"  
  
Jack put his glass down and sat forwards, resting his forearms on his thighs. "I wanna know if yer interested in a plan 'a mine. I wanna know if ya wanna help me knock awf Wick."  
  
"Ooo, I like that," Spot said, leaning forward with interest. "Come ovah heah. Let me get ya annuddah drink while ya tell me 'bout it." The two guys walked over to a table where two other newsies stood. "Pier, Reflex, get da man annuddah drink. So, tell me about dis plan 'a yers."  
  
"Well, I figah since we both hate 'im, we could kill Wick tageddah. Y'know, so's we do a good job."  
  
"Yeah," Spot said with another nod. "Well, it's too bad I awlready told Wick I'd take care 'a ya, ain't it?"  
  
With one quick motion, before Jake could react, Spot gripped his hand tightly and held it to the desk. In his other hand, he took the knife from the table and stabbed it through his hand. Jake let out a loud, bellowing cry. Reflex wrapped a wire around his neck and sank to the floor with him as he suffocated. 


	4. III

A/N: Well, thanks to those who are reading my short little story here! I know the chapters are not very lengthy, but oh well. =P I just have a few quick SOs for my miniscule amount of reviews. *drops hint; proceeds to pick it up* I'm sorry, I must have dropped that on my way to the SOs.  
  
Snorts: Thanks for not telling me I suck! =D I heart your support, mate!  
  
Fionn Mar: Thanks for the encouragement! I rather like killing newsies, myself. I'm excited to finish writing the story! =D  
  
III.  
  
Nightfall had come, and Jack and Itey walked the grooved cobblestone streets of Manhattan. Other newsies kept their eyes on the Manhattan borders to ensure safety. Jack strolled up to a fruit stand and began picking through a bushel of apples. "Say, Jack, did Jake evah come back from Brooklyn yet?"  
  
Jack gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. "No. We ain't hoid from 'im yet."  
  
"I hope he's awlright."  
  
"Jake'll be fine. He can handle 'isself. He prolly jist ain't back yet."  
  
"I don't t'ink it'd take dat lawng ta walk back from Brooklyn. I hope 'e ain't-"  
  
"Now now, let's not jump ta conclusions. We don' know nuttin' yet."  
  
Jack's head lifted from the fruit stand as footsteps were heard from another section of the street. They grew louder and quickened. Jack put the apple he was holding down and prepared to run away, but he wasn't fast enough. A shot was fired. Two. Three. Four. His breath shortened as he sank to his knees. Five. Itey fumbled to pull out a pistol of his own out to shoot the silhouetted figures but dropped it to the ground. The culprits made their escape and split in two opposite directions. Itey's eyes filled with tears, and he fell to the ground next to Jack. "Jack," he said through short breaths. "Somebody help!"  
  
* * * * *  
  
A knock came at the Jacobs' door. Sarah wiped her hands on a dishtowel and moved to the door to answer it. Her face brightened when she saw Race standing in her doorway. "Racetrack! What are you doing here? It's pretty late."  
  
"Yeah, I know. Sarah, is Davey here?"  
  
"Um, yes," Sarah answered, slightly confused at Race's serious and urgent tone of voice.  
  
"Can ya get 'im fer me?"  
  
"Sure," she replied. 'Is. . . everything alright?"  
  
"I'll tell ya when ya get 'im," Race answered simply. At that, Sarah promptly went back into the small apartment and came back with Dave in her company.  
  
"Hey, Race. What do you need?" Dave asked, shaking his hand free of spit.  
  
"I need ta tell ya somethin'," he began. He took a deep breath and spoke again. "Guys, Jack's been hoit." Sarah gasped and brought her hands to her mouth. "He should be awlright. We think we know who it was. Sarah, ya can see 'im in da mornin' if ya want. Dave, we need ta speak ta ya back at da lodgin' house."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Jack wouldn't 'a wanted Dave ta be dis involved," the voice of reason said. "We can't jist t'row 'im inta dis."  
  
"Maybe it should be up ta him, Specs," Rebecca offered.  
  
"Bec, will ya stay outta dis?" Skittery said coldly. Rebecca looked momentarily hurt but stopped talking nonetheless. Just then, Dave and Race walked in. "Any woid from Jake?"  
  
"No," Race answered and took a seat. He motioned for Dave to do the same. "Jack's gonna be fine. 'E's still alive. Until den, Specs an' me gotta keep dis goin'."  
  
"Yeah, da best fer da job," Blink agreed.  
  
"Wait, wait. What's going on with Jake?" David asked. "I know he went to Brooklyn, but I thought he'd be back."  
  
"We did too," said Race. He approached Rebecca in a chair towards the outside of the room. "Bec, maybe ya should. . . leave da room fer a bit." Rebecca nodded slowly and walked out of the room. Skittery hardly acknowledged her leaving, merely touching her hand as she walked past.  
  
As soon as Rebecca left the room, Snoddy came in with a bundle of newspapers. "What's dis?" Specs asked as the package was placed on Race's lap. As he opened it, a look of disgust crossed his face. In the package was a dead fish with Jake's bowler cap on top of it.  
  
"What da hell?" Race asked. Specs winced a bit.  
  
"A message from Brooklyn. Jake sleeps wit da fishes tanight," 


	5. IV

A/N: Weee, thanks for my reviews, kids! I think my chapters are getting a bit longer in length as things begin to pick up more. The next few should be considerably longer than the last few. I'm really hoping those who haven't seen the Godfather can still understand this, and those who have are pleased! Now for just a few quick SOs!  
  
Fionn Mar: Whoa. . . you like it. Haha, yay! This pleases me greatly! =D  
  
Angelfish: Huzzah! I'm glad to hear you're liking it! I'm working on writing more! And as for Jack. . . you'll see!  
  
IV.  
  
"Jack's awl taken care of. 'E's healin' fine. Thank God da Jacobs chipped in fer dat doctah. Kloppman's lettin' 'im stay free until 'e can sell again too," Specs said calmly. "Poah Itey's beatin' 'isself up ovah da whole thing. He says it's 'is fault."  
  
"It ain't Itey's fault," Race said.  
  
"I know it ain't. I told 'im dat, but he still feels horrible."  
  
"Dough if someone else was deah, 'e might not 'a dropped da gun, er 'e woulda gotten da guys," he closed his menu and put it down on the table. Dave sat back against the wall of the booth, not making so much as a peep.  
  
"Heya boys," Rebecca said as she approached the table. Her hair had a bit of a frizz and she looked a combination of stressed and upset. She pulled a small pad of paper out of her apron pocket and flipped over a few pages, shaking slightly all the while. "What can I get ya?"  
  
Each of the guys ordered their food in turn. As she turned to leave, Race held her arm and turned her around. "Bec, y'awlright?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah, I'se fine," she answered quickly with a weak smile and nod of her head. He let her arm free and she quickly disappeared into the kitchen.  
  
"Somethin' ain't right deah," He said with a sigh and shifted in the booth. "So what're we gonna do 'bout Queens?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Whaddaya mean?" Specs asked.  
  
"We gotta send someone. Dey can't go ta Brooklyn, kill one 'a our guys, an' get away wit it."  
  
"Whaddaya wanna do den?"  
  
"We gotta send someone."  
  
"Yeah? Is dat what we gotta do?" Race nodded. "Awlright, who're we gonna send? Itey? Ya saw what happened. I ain't so shoah we should jist go ovah deah an' start killin' everyone we want."  
  
"Dave could go. Dave, ya wanna go?" Race asked, causing David to sit forward in the booth.  
  
"Now wait jist a minute. Maybe Dave shouldn't be involved in dis too directly jist yet."  
  
Race sat back and thought for a minute. "What 'bout Blink an' snoddy? Dey'd go."  
  
"Hmm. . ." Specs considered the idea. "Dat might woik. Dey'd be able ta do it."  
  
"So. . . we jsit need a plan now."  
  
"I think I have one," Dave chimed in finally. Race and Specs turned their heads to him anxiously.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"So ya got it?" Race asked a final time.  
  
"Yeah, we got it," Blink answered.  
  
"Go do yer t'ing den," Race ordered and patted them both on the back. Blink and Snoddy nodded and took off in the direction of Queens.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Hey Wheat, c'meah," Snoddy said quietly as Blink talked to a girl across the street. Wheat obeyed rather stealthily, getting the hint that Blink wasn't supposed to hear. "I got a bit of an idea."  
  
"Yeah? Ya do? What's dat?" Wheat asked, only half interested. He took off his hat and fixed his straight red hair.  
  
"I know how ya feel 'bout Manhattan," Wheat put his hat back on and straightened a bit so as not to be suspicious. "Well, I feel da same way. 'Bout some 'a da guys, anyway. Blink ovah deah," he nodded across the street. "I can't stand 'im. So, I've gotta bit of a plan."  
  
"Go on."  
  
"Blink's blind in one eye, but ya knew dat. Well, when I tell ya when, go up on da left side and get 'im wit yer switchblade. 'E ain't gonna see."  
  
"Ooo, I kinda like dat idea. I nevah t'ought 'bout dat," Wheat said with growing excitement.  
  
"I'll tell ya when, awlright?"  
  
"Sounds good," Wheat said, having been made credulous by his excitement. His blue eyes seemed to flicker at the idea of a free Manhattan kill.  
  
Their attention was turned to the street again as Blink was slapped across the face. The girl stormed off, and Blink came across the street. "Heya, boys," Blink said relatively cheerfully, considering how his conversation had just gone. "If ya'll excuse me, I gotta make a stop heah in da alley, if y'know what I mean." Blink smirked a little and went towards the back of the alley and faced the wall.  
  
"Wheat, now! Follow 'im on da left!" Snoddy whispered urgently. He cleared his throat loudly. Wheat pulled out his switchblade and advanced Blink on the left. He went quickly and quietly. His feet made no sound on the ground. While Blink had his back turned, he eased out his own concealed weapon. Snoddy coughed lightly as Wheat got closer. Unexpectedly, Blink spun over his right shoulder and stabbed Wheat in the stomach. He thrust the knife in until he left his body limp and lifeless. He had Snoddy help him dump the body in the dumpster. They wiped their hands and the blade on a rag and left the alley casually to walk back home. 


	6. V

A/N: Okie, stress level's been high lately, but Sagey insists that I update. She will be appearing in this fic in time! But yeah, updateishness. *sends an SO to everyone who reviewed!*  
  
V  
  
"David, what are you doing home so late?" Sarah asked in a hushed, though harsh voice. "Momma was really worries. You missed dinner."  
  
"It's only 7," David replied simply.  
  
"But you always come in before then even if you go back out with the guys."  
  
"Sarah. . . you know, I just have things to do," Dave replied, at a loss for anything further to say.  
  
Sarah stood up straighter and put her hands on her hips. "Dave, what's going on? You're never home anymore. I'm surprised you even came in at all tonight! And you hardly talk to us anymore. What's your problem?"  
  
"There's no problem. We just. . . have a lot of business to handle with the newsies."  
  
"Well, is everything alright?" Sarah asked, throwing the dishtowel in her hand onto the table. Her face was growing concerned.  
  
"Yeah, it's fine," David answered. He paused for a moment before speaking on. "Look, I don't want Les around for a while, even if he goes off with one of the other guys. I want him home."  
  
"Why? David, what is going on? Is everything okay?" Sarah was not only concerned; she was downright worried.  
  
"Sarah, I can't really explain it. I just don't think it's really safe right now. I mean, you saw what happened to Jack. Can you keep him with you or something? Maybe tell Momma and Les that you need help? I don't want her to worry too much."  
  
Sarah sighed and looked at the table. "Yeah, sure," she answered, rubbing the side of her face.  
  
"Thank you so much," Dave said with a sigh of relief. He gave her a quick brotherly hug. "I'm going to go make sure Jack's alright and everything. Stay here, alright?"  
  
Sarah sighed and looked back at Dave. "I don't see why I can't come with you. I'm just as close to Jack as you are."  
  
"I don't know that it's safe. I'll let you know when I do. Then you can come with me."  
  
"Dave, what's not safe enough for me to even go out with you to see Jack?"  
  
"Sarah, Jack almost got killed on our own streets! Tell me what is safe about that."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dave stopped in front of the lodging house. He saw no movement inside. He walked up the front steps and into the building. Kloppman had fallen asleep in the lobby. He'd been asked to stay with Jack, who was in the sickroom, while nobody was around. Even at this hour, someone was expected to be around. "Oh, go figure. When he's out, he's out," Dave muttered to himself.  
  
He walked into the sickroom to see Jack. He went to his bedside and peered down at him. He prepared to speak when his attention was suddenly drawn outside. He saw two figures standing in the street in front of the lodging house. Upon Dave's seeing them, they took off down the street hurriedly.  
  
Dave heard the front door close and jumped. He exited the sickroom quietly into the lobby. He stood next to the wall so that only half of his body could be seen to get a look at whoever entered. "Davey?" the figure asked.  
  
"Pie Eater?"  
  
"Yeah, it's me."  
  
"Christ, you scared me," David emerged fully from the shadows and clapped a hand to his chest.  
  
"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean ta," Pie said in response to his reaction.  
  
"It's alright," Dave assured him. He glanced out the window quickly. "Hey Pie, did you see where those two guys went?"  
  
"What two guys?"  
  
"Right," Dave said. He grabbed Pie Eater by the wrist and pulled him onto the front steps.  
  
"Dave, what two guys?"  
  
"They couldn't have been from Manhattan. They'll be back," he said almost to himself, as though he was ignoring Pie Eater completely.  
  
"Dave-" Pie Eater began, but Dave cut him off.  
  
"Just shut up and stand here for a minute," he demanded. He pushed Pie's hat down a bit and did the same to his own. He flipped up their shirt collars. "Just put a hand inside your vest like you have a weapon and stand there. Just be calm."  
  
Pie took a quiet deep breath and obeyed. The two guys stood like this with their heads tucked slightly as the two figures approached again. Dave moved his hand a little as though he was reaching for his weapon. The men must have noticed, for they walked back the way they came quickly.  
  
"You did good," Dave assured him with a pat on the back. Pie Eater breathed a heavy sigh of relief and pulled out a cigarette. He struggled to light it, as his hand was trembling and a breeze picked up. Dave took his matchbook from him and lit the cigarette for him. Pie began to relax a little as he took a few puffs of the cigarette, and David simply looked down at the step he was standing on. 


	7. VI

A/N: *sends an SO to all reviewers again because she's too lazy/rushed to write them all out for you*  
  
So yeah, these next few chapters are pretty long and exciting. The excitement will probably drop off a bit after them for some explaining and character/plot development. =D  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own the movie Newsies. I do own Reflex, Tipper, Wick, Wheat from previous chapters, Lead, and Spin.  
  
VI  
  
Dave's saving Jack was well-received by the guys. They congratulated Pie Eater as well, though he wanted nothing to do with the contention. Having done his civic and loyal duty to Manhattan, he withdrew himself from further involvement.  
  
Dave walked into Tibby's and moved to the table in the back corner the newsies had pretty much claimed. "Dey're a t'reat ta us," Race was saying. Skittery was there, listening intently as the other guys talked. Dave pushed in the booth across from him.  
  
"What's going on?" Dave asked, having missed most of the conversation.  
  
"Well, Spot's guys wanna meet wit one of our guys. We'se gonna send someone," Specs answered plainly. He glanced over at Race, who seemed somewhat annoyed.  
  
"But we gotta take out Reflex an' 'is lacky. Dey'se too dangerous," Race insisted.  
  
"Reflex is a step down from Spot. We kill 'im, we hindah Brooklyn," Specs added. "Race is right on dis one." By this time Specs had given up his leadership role to make way for Race. He was headstrong and assertive. Specs settled for trying to steer him away from violence, however difficult it may be.  
  
"So who should we send?"  
  
Race sighed and rolled his eyes. "Dutchy would do it."  
  
"I dunno. . . I ain't so shoah Dutchy wants ta be involved, er if I'm even gonna let 'im be," Specs said hesitantly.  
  
"I'll go," Dave's voice broke in suddenly for the first time. Everyone at the table was suddenly silent and looked at him. "I can go to Brooklyn. I'll do it."  
  
"Uh. . . Dave," Specs began hesitantly. "Dis one'll be tough. Deah's two guys. Ya can't jist walk in wit a gun an' kill 'em. Dey'll check ya. It ain't gonna be easy."  
  
Dave thought for a moment. "Specs, if you find a way to plant a revolver there somehow, I'll do it. Just tell me what to do. The last thing they'll expect is me killing them. Spot knows me. He knows I'm not a very threatening person. We should just go for it."  
  
Specs and Race glanced at each other and shrugged. "It could work," Race said. "Blink an' Snoddy can show 'im how it's done."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Awlright, Blink, ya make shoah dat gun's in a good spot. I don' want dist a go wrawng fer Davey," Race said as he pulled Blink aside by the sleeve. "Make shoah he knows what ta do."  
  
Blink nodded and hit Race in the chest with the back of his hand. "'E ain't gonna have a problem."  
  
Dave approached the two of them and put his hands in his pockets. "Hey Davey," Race said, eyeing him carefully. "So, ya woikedout a place ta stay when ya leave heah?"  
  
"Yeah," Dave nodded. "I'm going to live with my aunt in Connecticut. She lives near a factory in Hartford. I told my family I'm going to work there to get some extra money while my father gets back on his feet."  
  
"Right, well, ya bettah get started," Race patted them both on the back and started to walk out. He gave Blink one last look of warning before exiting the room.  
  
"Okay, kid. Let's do dis," Blink said and clapped his hands together once.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dave paused outside the entrance to the Brooklyn café and peered in the window. Because of the hour of the meeting, the room was empty. All he saw were two guys sitting at one of the tables. Spot was nowhere to be seen, as was expected. One was eating a meal. He had short, curly, light brown hair. He looked over a bit to see who he assumed to be Reflex. He was large and built with black, thick, short hair. The look on his face made Dave's blood run cold. With a deep breath, he pulled open the door and entered the room.  
  
The two guys stood as David entered. "You must be Davey," the black- haired guy said. He shook David's hand. "I'se Reflex, and dis is Tippah. He's moah er less jist a witness heah. Have a seat." Tipper sat and continued eating his meal. "I guess yer wonderin' why yer heah."  
  
"I think. . . I may have an idea," Dave replied. He glanced to the side to see Tipper still watching carefully. A bit of a smirk wiped across his face.  
  
"Y'know, deah's moah ta makin' peace dan jist makin' peace."  
  
"I'm aware of that."  
  
"Help yerself ta some food, kid."  
  
"Thanks, but I'm not hungry."  
  
"I insist."  
  
"It's alright; I'm not hungry," Dave insisted again as the rapid fire comments desisted. "What do you want with me, Reflex?"  
  
"I wanna cut a deal heah."  
  
"And what sort of deal are we looking at?" Dave's face was unreadable as he spoke.  
  
"Y'know people're hot an' heavy ta get revenge. If we awlf figah somethin' out fer uddah compensation, like peace, it would be great."  
  
"So what's the problem?"  
  
"Queens ain't fer it."  
  
"So. . . what are you getting at?"  
  
Reflex sat back in his chair again. He opened a cigar box. "Cigar?"  
  
"No, thanks," Dave answered, not taking his eyes off of Reflex. "Tell me, Reflex. Why do you want peace if you conspired with Queens against us?"  
  
"Are you sure you don't want any food?"  
  
"Yes, I'm sure," Dave said, somewhat exasperated. "Actually, do you have a rest room?"  
  
"Yeah. It's down da hawl ta da left."  
  
"Thanks," Dave said as he left the table. He stopped in the doorway, searching through his memory. He entered the second stall and found the small wooden box on the wall. He reached his hand up into it and felt around. After a moment, he found the pistol and stuck in his vest pocket. He took a quick, deep breath and moved out to the room again.  
  
"So whaddaya say, as spokespoyson fer Manhattan? Ya wanna go against Queens wit us?" Reflex persisted. He continued to speak, but Dave heard nothing of it. He drew in another silent breath. In one quick motion, he stood and pulled out the gun. He shot Reflex twice in the forehead and turned to do the same to Tipper, who choked on his food. He fell into the table, flipping it over. He walked out at a controlled speed, looking in front of him, and dropped the gun as Blink had told him to do. 


	8. VII

A/N: I know I've been slow, but work and school and rehearsals and stuff don't leave much time for ficcing. Thanks to those who are keeping up with the story! Send your friends to it! =D Anyway, onto some ficcage. Chapters should be relatively short from here on out.  
  
VII  
  
"So. . . we should be awl set, right?" Race asked Specs, casually flipping a card between his fingers.  
  
"Yeah, we should be," Specs answered. "Dave's in Connecticut wit 'is aunt. He told 'is family he was gonna woik deah fer a little while while 'is faddah gets goin' again. Good ol' Dave."  
  
"Beautiful job, if I do say so meself," Race said with a laugh. He leaned back in his chair and scanned the room. Most people sat quietly, in anticipation of what was to come.  
  
Skittery sat in silence in the corner with an almost sour look on his face. Rebecca glanced up at him and furrowed her eyebrows. "What's a mattah with you?" she asked innocently, concerned.  
  
"Jist shut up, will ya?" Skittery muttered so nobody else would hear him.  
  
Rebecca glanced at the floor before standing up to leave. "I'se. . . kinda tired. I'se awf ta my lodgin' house," she said relatively softly. She glanced at Skittery once more. He didn't look at her, let alone respond, so she left the building.  
  
Race looked at Skittery expectantly. When he didn't move, Race stood and followed Rebecca out. "Asshole," he muttered. Specs simply sighed and leaned his head back against the wall.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Aunt Mildred?" Dave asked as he approached a woman at the train station. She turned her attention to him and smiled. "I thought it was you."  
  
"Hey, David," she went over to him and kissed his cheek. "Welcome to Hartford! I'll show you home. You're probably really tired from traveling."  
  
"Yeah, I am pretty tired," Dave admitted politely.  
  
"It's not much of a walk, so I think you can handle it."  
  
"I'm sure I'll be fine," Dave said with a smile. His aunt picked up one of his bags for him and started to walk off.  
  
"So, you're here to do some mill work for some extra money? That was a pretty sudden decision," she tried to strike up a conversation.  
  
"Well, I wasn't making much selling newspapers. I figured my family could use the help. You know how my father's having trouble getting back on his feet."  
  
"You're father's not even fully healed yet. I wouldn't expect him to have an easy time."  
  
"I know. That's exactly why I came," Dave answered, glancing back at the ground.  
  
"Well, I half-expected your father to send you back to school. He's stubborn like that. He'd insist he was fine."  
  
Dave chuckled a little. "Yeah, I know. So did I. I started selling papers, though. That kind of stuck with me. Dad hasn't healed too fast, so I've been at it since the summer. I figured I could make more money up here in a mill than back home selling newspapers."  
  
"They have mills in New York," Mildred said with a laugh.  
  
"Well, none of them had any room," Dave explained. He looked over the streets. They were considerably less busy than those of Manhattan. Most people walking on the streets seemed to have a purpose to what they were doing.  
  
"Well, stay as long as you like," Mildred offered with a warm smile. "My house is your house. Besides, I'm the only one here. There's plenty of room."  
  
"Well, I may just stay for a little while. We'll have to see how this mill thing goes," Dave answered. He seemed unsure of how long he'd need here. He was to stay until he received word from the guys back home. He looked around at his current surroundings and decided they were secure.  
  
"Well, here we are," Mildred announced as they walked up the steps. She opened the door and started up the stairs. "Room 103 here. I'll give you the spare key. Nobody else is here to take it, after all."  
  
"Excellent," Dave said simply.  
  
"I spoke to the managers at the mill for you. You can start Monday. Just go and visit with them to find some more stuff out about your job."  
  
"I'll walk down there in a little bit."  
  
"Good. Well, now for the grand tour!" Mildred said cheerfully, clapping her hands together once. She paused and looked around. "Well, this is. . . pretty much it."  
  
David chuckled and looked around. "You have a lot more room than my family back in New York," he chuckled.  
  
Mildred chuckled and pointed to a small hallway with three doors. "Down at the end is my bedroom. The door on the left is the bathroom. The right is the spare room. Let me show you that now," she brought him over to the bedroom. She opened the door to reveal a twin bed with a home-made patchwork quilt, a small nightstand with a lamp, and a small wardrobe. "I know it's small and it's not much, but I figured it would do."  
  
Dave looked over at her and smiled. "It will do just fine. Thanks, Aunt Mildred." 


	9. VIII

A/N: Okie, extra special thanks to Sage for loaning me her character! She doesn't really like Davey, and her family is supposed to be dead, but yeah. It's a story. I needed a character, and she opened up the possibility of using hers. The end!  
  
Chapter VIII  
  
Jack sat upright with a pillow behind his back in a bed in the bunkroom. This was the first time since his attempted murder that he'd been let out of the sickroom. Several of the guys were in there visiting him, as his health and strength were returning. "Jack, ya shoulda seen it! Davey went awf an' got Reflex an' 'is lackey! He was great!" Itey said to Jack excitedly. Jacks smiled a little at Itey and shot a look at Specs and Race.  
  
Specs leaned forwards from the wall. "Heya, boys, we'll be back," he said, pulling Race out the door by the sleeve. "Did ya see dat?"  
  
"See what?" Race asked absentmindedly.  
  
"Da bunny dat popped out of 'is ass. Dat look Jack gave us!"  
  
"What about it?"  
  
"Race, don't ya see? Ya can't jist run inta dis blind as a bat an' kill everyone. Da point is dat we wanna get alawng. Ya gotta start usin' yer head!" Specs said behind Race as he turned his back.  
  
"Specs, what da hell're ya tawkin' about? I know what I'se doin'," Race insisted defensively.  
  
"Awl yer doin' is getting' back at 'em!"  
  
"An whaddaya think I'se tryin' ta do?"  
  
"Whaddaya gonna prove, huh?"  
  
"Dey won't wanna fuck wit us, Specs. If dey know we ain't afraid, dey ain't gonna give us trouble."  
  
"An' how does dat make peace?"  
  
"Peace comes when it's equal. Nuttin's equal now, Specs! Look around you! We hafta balance it out foist!" Race fired back as they started down the stairs, their volumes growing louder and louder.  
  
"And fer what?" Specs asked. "Ta justify what dey do ta us by doin' it right back ta dem? Ya gotta use yer head!"  
  
"An' what da fuck do ya think I'se doin'? I am usin' my head!" Race yelled, turning to him at the bottom of the stairs.  
  
"Yer too hot-headed! Ya need ta stop an' realize dat not makin' peace'll only make it woise! Now grow up and be a leadah!"  
  
"I am bein' a leadah!" Race yelled back even louder. By now, they were in a full-volume screaming match.  
  
"Yer getting' our guys killed out deah! What kinda leadah is dat?"  
  
"I'se doin' what needs ta be done! Jack woulda done dis at any cost!"  
  
"Jack wouldn't a killed our guys!"  
  
"Aw, stop actin' like a saint, will ya? Jack wouldn't a listened tad is from someone like you! I ain't eiddah!" Race yelled loudly. He stopped and exhaled, some of the color leaving his face. Specs stood there looking at him, shocked and hurt. "Lok. . . I didn't mean anythin' by dat."  
  
Specs nodded and sighed. "Awl I'se sayin' is dat ya gotta stop an' think," he explained calmer than he had before. "Ya saw da look Jack gave us. He didn't want Dave mixed up in dis."  
  
"I know. And I don't want any of our guys killed any moah dan you do."  
  
"I know, so slow down, will ya? Think befoah ya throw everyone out deah."  
  
Race nodded and clapped Specs on the back. "No hard feelings, 'ey?" he asked as an old friend. Specs smiled a little and nodded.  
  
* * * * *  
  
That night, the guys went to dinner at Tibby's. Rebecca had the night off, so she stuck around with the guys for a meal. Skittery sat next to her across the table from Itey and her friend Bridget, who had stuck around for the meal. She was a few inches taller than Rebecca and was slightly more muscular. She had brown hair past her shoulders and brown eyes. At the head of the table by Skittery was Race, and Specs sat at the head by Rebecca.  
  
"So. . . are we gonna do anythin' about Queens?" Skittery asked.  
  
"Umm, y'know. . . Jack nevah tawked business like dis at da table, 'specially wit guests," Rebecca said softly, tucking some hair behind her ear and motioning to Bridget.  
  
"Bec, shut up," Skittery said.  
  
"Hey, don't evah tell Rebecca ta shut up!" Race said forcefully and loudly, pointing at him with his fork. After a beat, he brought his fork back to his plate and continued his meal.  
  
"So. . . are we?" Skittery persisted.  
  
"Skittery, we don't tawk business at da table, 'specially wit guests heah," Race answered casually as he continued his meal.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dave stood in the doorway of a room with a crate full of spools. He glanced across the room, not having the slightest clue where to bring the crate. One girl glanced over at him and caught his eyes. She was relatively tall in stature, possibly even a bit taller than David. She had curly, dark red hair, close to brown, and a red bandana covering it. Her green eyes changed to a silver momentarily as she looked into the light. She left her post and walked over to him.  
  
"Hey there," she said with a smile. "You look lost."  
  
"Yeah. . . I am," Dave laughed.  
  
"I'm Sage," she said, taking the box.  
  
"I'm David."  
  
"Well, David, I'll show you where to put this for next time."  
  
"Great. Thanks."  
  
She put it on the floor at the end of a row of people spinning thread and turned back to him. He glanced at the floor, then back up at her, and didn't move. "Well. . . I'll see you around then," Sage said nervously. She tucked a loose curl behind her ear and walked off. Dave watched her leave and go back to her station before walking back down the stairs. 


End file.
